


Let no one set asunder

by wingedspirit



Series: Winter 2019 Prompts [24]
Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: 31 Days of Ineffables Advent Calendar Challenge (Good Omens), 31 Days of Ineffables Advent Calendar Challenge 2019 (Good Omens), Angelic Marriage, Assorted angels and demons, Crack Treated Seriously, Fluff, Humor, M/M, as well as Jesus and God
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-30
Updated: 2019-12-30
Packaged: 2021-02-27 15:49:02
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,416
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22039582
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wingedspirit/pseuds/wingedspirit
Summary: Newly married, Aziraphale and Crowley receive some peculiar holiday cards.
Relationships: Aziraphale/Crowley (Good Omens)
Series: Winter 2019 Prompts [24]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1560823
Comments: 26
Kudos: 249





	Let no one set asunder

**Author's Note:**

> Follows on from [And so the feeling grows](https://archiveofourown.org/works/21773473), and will, I fear, make little sense if you've not read it.
> 
> Written for [drawlight](https://archiveofourown.org/users/drawlight)’s [advent calendar prompt list](https://drawlight.tumblr.com/post/188869931294/aziraphale-crowley-for-half-an-hour-youve-been) (day 24, holiday card).

When Michael steps out of the Office of Celestial Records, she finds Gabriel waiting for her.

“Well?” he all but demands, a scowl etched on his face. “Is it done?”

Michael nods, with a small, tight smile. “I just put in the paperwork.”

Gabriel pats her on the shoulder, awkwardly. “Well done. I’m sure it wasn’t easy to make them see reason.”

“It took some doing, but we reached a satisfactory solution.”

“Ah, excellent.” Gabriel winks, all pretend bonhomie. “Satisfactory for us, I imagine. I don’t think either of them will be finding their satisfaction anytime soon, am I right?”

He laughs boisterously at his own joke; she gives him another tight smile. “I’ll be in my office, if you need me.”

“Of course, of course. You don’t mind if I check, do you? Just to make sure everything is in order.”

“Be my guest.”

As Michael walks away, she hears the click of the Celestial Records door locking behind Gabriel. She’s almost made it back to her office when the shout echoes through Heaven.

“They got married?!”

* * *

In a tiny, bright corner of Heaven, separate from the rest, the shout is echoed by a joyful whoop. “They got married!!!”

* * *

In Hell, Dagon cautiously walks into Beelzebub’s office. She knows they’re not going to like this.

“An update came in to Crowley’s file. You’ll want to see this.”

“Give it here,” Beelzebub says, impatiently.

Dagon hands over the file, and all but bolts out of the door.

The shout echoes through Hell.

“They got married?!”

* * *

“Uh, angel?” Crowley calls, warily. “There’s a bunch of cards on your mantelpiece.”

“I told you,” Aziraphale says, patiently, “those are from my collection of holiday cards. We used to exchange them at my gentlemen’s club.”

“I don’t mean the creepy snowmen, sad kittens and dead robins,” Crowley answers. “These are in envelopes, and they’re glowing. And they’re addressed to the both of us, with sigils, not names.”

“You’re joking.” Aziraphale pokes his head out of the kitchen. Crowley is staring at the mantelpiece in much the same way as someone might stare at a ticking, unexploded bomb.

“Would I joke about this? Come look.”

Aziraphale looks. There are, indeed, three unfamiliar envelopes on the mantelpiece. One is bright white, glowing softly silver; one is ash grey, pulsing a dark red; and one is cream, radiating a warm gold. All three of them, as Crowley had said, are marked with both of their sigils.

“So,” Crowley says, pointing. “One from Heaven, one from Hell, and…” He shrugs. “Never seen a gold one before.”

“We can’t just ignore them, can we?”

Crowley winces. “Better not. Whatever they want to tell us, we’re better off knowing about it.” He reaches for the Hell envelope, which opens at his touch, and pulls out a card from inside it.

It looks like a holiday card, but Aziraphale can’t quite see what’s on the front of it, with Crowley’s hand in the way. He watches, on tenterhooks, as Crowley opens it and reads, his eyebrows climbing higher and higher.

Finally, Crowley laughs. “I don’t believe this.”

Aziraphale takes the card from him, and stares. The front of it bears a realistic-looking drawing of Satan in a Santa Claus outfit, along with the words “Here comes Satan Claus” in rounded, cartoony letters. “Er…”

“Check the inside,” Crowley says, chuckling.

Aziraphale opens it. There are several messages, all signed, all in different handwriting. They look to have been written, respectively, with an almost-empty ballpoint pen, a pencil with a lead that kept breaking, a too-dry fountain pen and an overloaded quill that dropped ink blots everywhere.

> _I have no idea what’s going on, but they told me to write in here, so I am. — Ligur_
> 
> _I still fucking hate you. — Hastur_
> 
> _This had better be the last time I see your name on paperwork. — Dagon_
> 
> _I don’t want to know. — Beelzebub_

And then, scrawled in a corner of the card with what seems to have been an actual functional pen and signed with a tiny drawing of a bunny:

> _Congratulations, I guess? You’re a brave demon, Crowley. Your angel’s terrifying._

“That’s Eric,” Crowley says. “Bunny demon, can make infinite copies of himself. He was the one who brought the hellfire up to Heaven. Asked if he could punch you, then, for some reason —” Crowley grins “— changed his mind.”

“Can’t imagine why,” Aziraphale says, knowingly. “So…”

“So, I guess Michael put in the paperwork, _husband_ ,” Crowley says, with a wink, taking the card back from Aziraphale and putting it back on the mantelpiece.

“Oh,” Aziraphale says. “Oh! So I guess the one from Heaven would be…” He takes it off the mantelpiece; the envelope opens at his touch. The card inside has a reproduction of a painting of the Archangels on the front. Gabriel, Uriel, Michael and Sandalphon are standing in a group, wearing extremely fancy robes with gilded details, wings on full display. The words “Hark! The Herald Angels Sing” are written near the top of the card in shining gold ink, in strange letters that look old and worn but don’t resemble any kind of historical handwriting Aziraphale has ever seen.

“Right,” Aziraphale mutters to himself, opening the card. The four messages inside it are all written in the same gold ink, with almost identical handwriting; it’s only because they’re signed that Aziraphale can tell them apart.

> _My congratulations. — Michael_
> 
> _I don’t want to know. — Gabriel_
> 
> _Climb every mountain, I guess. Or demon. He’s tall, right? — Sandalphon_
> 
> _Congratulations! ~~Sorry I let Sandalphon punch you, Aziraphale.~~ — Uriel_

Aziraphale rolls his eyes and shakes his head, handing the card to Crowley. “Honestly.”

Crowley scans it quickly and shrugs. “Polite enough, I guess.” He sets the card back down on the mantelpiece. “One left. Do you want to do the honours, or shall I?”

“All yours.”

Crowley plucks the last envelope from the mantelpiece. Like the others, it opens at his touch; unlike the others, the moment Crowley unfolds the card, it has a visible effect on him.

“Crowley,” Aziraphale says, warily, “not to alarm you, but — you appear to be glowing.”

“Yes,” Crowley says, distantly, “I imagine I would be.” He offers Aziraphale the card.

Aziraphale takes it, cautiously. On the front, there is a photograph of a small heap of green peas on top of a scattering of dark soil. Each pea is wearing a miniature Santa hat and has a face drawn on it, making the whole ensemble look like a group of carol singers. There is text both above and below the photo, reading, respectively, “Glory be to God” and “Peas on Earth”, in large, neat letters printed in festive red and green.

He opens the card, and a frisson of power goes through him.

Crowley grins. “There you go, now you’re glowing too. We’re a matched set.”

“But —”

“It’s alright. Read it.”

Aziraphale does. In the top right corner of the card, scrawled diagonally in what appears to be light blue pen with silver sparkles, is a note reading:

> _Took you long enough!!! — Yeshua_

And taking up the bulk of the card, in glittering, shimmering letters that fade out of view unless he’s looking directly at them:

> _Congratulations. I believe a gift is traditional._

Aziraphale looks back up at Crowley, eyes wide. “That’s from —”

“Yup.” Crowley is no longer glowing. He looks no different, but at the same time, it’s obvious that something has changed; he looks settled, somehow, comfortable in his own skin in a way he never did before. As Aziraphale studies him, he rolls his shoulders, stretching his back; in that other plane where their wings are hidden, Aziraphale can see, very faintly, the shadow of — of a fair few more wings than Crowley used to have. Which means —

“Are you —”

“An aardvark, I guess.” Crowley chuckles. “I got my old name back. I’m still Fallen, but no longer bound to Hell. I expect the same is true of you — still an angel, but no longer bound to Heaven.”

“Something new,” Aziraphale breathes.

“Yes.” Crowley smiles. “Our own side, truly.”

Aziraphale smiles back. “Then, if you got the name back, should I call you —”

Crowley puts a finger on his lips to shush him. “My name is Crowley. Though, if you’re feeling demonstrative…” The smile curls into a grin. “There’s a number of pet names I can tolerate.”

Aziraphale kisses the tip of Crowley’s finger, then reaches out to pull him close. “What about ‘love’? Or ‘husband’?”

Crowley hums. “Those will do.”

**Author's Note:**

> “Creepy snowmen, sad kittens and dead robins”: Victorian Christmas cards were a _trip_.
> 
> The Hell card uses Comic Sans on the front, while the Heaven card uses Papyrus, if you were wondering. It's just that Aziraphale has no clue what those are, and he narrated this one.
> 
> I'm sorry if this is not what people expected from a sequel. It is what my brain coughed up.
> 
> You can, should you wish to, find me on [Tumblr](https://wingedspirit.tumblr.com/).


End file.
